Her blow was crafty and well-timed, and his shot went wild.

Again he took aim, and again she destroyed it with a touch and danced out of his reach.

She was nimble and light, and quickened now by a cold calculation of all that depended upon her.
Three times in all she thwarted Runnion, while the canoe drove closer every instant.

On the fourth, as she dashed at him, he struck to be rid of her, cursing wickedly--struck as he would have struck at a man.
Silently she crumpled up and fell, a pitiful, draggled, awkward little figure sprawled upon the rocks; but the delay proved fatal to him, for, though the canoe was close against the bank, and the huge man in it seemed to offer a mark too plain to be missed, he was too close to permit careful aim.

Runnion heard him giving utterance to a strange, feral, whining sound, as if he were crying like a fighting boy; then, as the gambler raised his arm, the Canadian lifted himself up on the bottom of the canoe until he stood stretched to his full height, and leaped.